Water

One: Gerald and I transplanted something like 600 lettuces, 1,000 onions, and two hundred cucumber plants this morning. By noon, we were up off our hands & knees and as we strolled along the rows, Gerald said, "If we get those four days of rain like we're supposed to, you'll see these just hoppin' out of the ground. Weeds too, mind."

Two: It's been hot. And dusty. Three o'clock in the afternoon, Calvin said to me, "Water sure is good on a day like this." He puts a water bottle in the freezer overnight but, he said, "I wish it weren't quite so frozen just now." I was carrying water and offered him some; he gulped until it poured over his face.

Three: Yesterday, I hauled buckets of water up to the herb garden (It's unfortunately out of reach of the hose). Lily helped me scoop it onto the young cilantro and parsley and when she noticed I'd been drinking from a Mason jar, I guess she thought that was quite a novelty. Between us, we drained the jar and she so kindly offered to refill it. She had a run-in with some freshly pulled weeds and scootched around on her bum while deciding what to do about the thistle thorns in her toe. She disappeared, then reappeared with shoes and a shovel of her own to help with herb transplanting.